


whenever your world starts crashing down

by kissteethstainred



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Anyways, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Minty Fic Week, Zombie Apocalypse, i'm glad this fic is done w/ yay, look! not shameless fic! surprise to everyone! including myself!, uhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:31:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4131127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissteethstainred/pseuds/kissteethstainred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was like something from a dream Monty had once, a dream that had been called civilization before the world ended. People were running around, carrying clothes, weapons, foods, buckets full of items that Monty couldn’t see, and everywhere there were shoddy, makeshift buildings, if they could even be called that.</p>
<p>Of all the places Monty had been in an apocalypse, the Ark was by far the coolest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	whenever your world starts crashing down

**Author's Note:**

> tbh this fic is half a mess? if you can't tell, i really rushed the ending bc i wanted to finish it in time for the fic week (technically there's an hour left in the fic week I MADE IT) and sometimes i lost monty x miller in the plot, and sometimes i lost the plot in monty x miller ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ it's 14k and i meant for it to be like 5k, but i'm satisfied, so hey. nice.
> 
> since there is an hour left in the fic week, this is largely unbetaed. seriously, the last 6k might be a mess. i apologize beforehand
> 
> comments and kudos, etc, greatly appreciated and stuff :) they make my day :) 
> 
> if i could describe a fic as ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ and only ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ it would be this fic

Monty held out his hand to Jasper to get him to stop talking. “What is it?” Jasper whispered, nervously shifting the bat in his hand. A moment passed before Jasper heard it too: the crunching of feet on the grass, the crackling of leaves when whatever was moving passed under trees. “You think it’s—” He cut off when voices cut over their loud stepping. “Those aren’t zombies,” Jasper said, and Monty would have rolled his eyes if not for the fact that _there were other humans_. Monty looked at Jasper, hope blossoming in his chest, and when Jasper looked at him, there was the same smile.

Ten minutes later, a group of three people—two men and a woman—met them, and they were just as astounded at Monty and Jasper were. Names were exchanged between all of them, handshakes that were strange due to the lack of human contact for a while.

“You guys _are_ from the Ark, right?” Jasper asked.

The trio glanced at each other. The woman—Clarke—turned back to them, smiling. “Yes.”

\--

It was like something from a dream Monty had once, a dream that had been called civilization before the world ended. People were running around, carrying clothes, weapons, foods, buckets full of items that Monty couldn’t see, and everywhere there were shoddy, makeshift buildings, if they could even be called that. Tents were closer to it. Some were actual tents, but most were buildings created with wood leaned up against a tree, plastic tarps pulled tight so water wouldn’t leak through, and even some with thatched roofs of grasses weaved together tightly. Jasper whistled lowly as they passed one that looked almost like a little shack. It wasn’t bad by any means, but actually the best they’d seen in a while. And they’d actually constructed a fence around the entire place—it was amazing, really.

“Everyone here contributes,” Clarke was saying. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was commanding, and Monty still doubted she was much older than him. “The Ark doesn’t have time for anybody who is going to laze about all day.” She had long blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, and some people waved to her as they passed. “If you don’t have a useful skill, you’re going to learn one. If you can’t fight, and you can’t learn, then you’ll be without a weapon. End of story. We don’t have time for incompetent people carrying around dangerous items.” Her eyes touched upon the bat in Jasper’s hand and the gun in Monty’s before focusing back on the camp. “You guys have any idea of what you wanna do?”

“Architect, surpluses, chemicals,” Jasper said immediately. Clarke turned to him, an eyebrow raised. “I can help fix some of the houses and fencing around here, help with the food collecting.” Jasper fixed his grip on the bat. “I’m good at smashing zombie brains if need be.”

The two men with Clarke—Miller and Wells—exchanged an amused glance. Monty felt himself bracing to defend Jasper.

“Fine.” Clarke nodded and turned to Monty. “And you?”

“What do you have space for?” Monty asked. His eyes ran around the camp a little, too. “I know a lot about plants, so I could help with food. I know a lot about herbs, so I could help in healing. I know a lot about technology, communications, and engineering, so if there’s any trouble with that, I could jump in.”

Clarke looked between them for a moment, nodding. “It seems you guys will be fine.” She paused for a moment to talk to a woman who stopped to talk in Clarke’s ear. Clarke frowned and said, “Tell him to get his shit together. I don’t care how important Murphy thinks he is.” Her expression relaxed when she finally faced Monty and Jasper again. “If you don’t mind me asking, how’d you guys find each other?”

“We’re best friends,” Jasper said.

“Best friends?” Wells repeated, grinning at Clarke.

Clarke looked back at Wells and smiled. “That’s lucky. More than one pair now.” She motioned for them for follow her before turning on her heel. “I’ll have Miller set you guys up with some type of housing, and then we’ll end up dividing you into your jobs,” Clarke continued. Some teens raced by, carrying large branches, and Wells sighed, giving Clarke a small nod before chasing off after them. “Eating times are pretty communal, I’d say, unless you’re out on a specific job. Everyone here is pretty nice, we all get along.”

“Everyone here looks pretty young,” Jasper commented.

Clarke glanced at Miller for a moment. “Yes, we’re all mostly young,” she admitted. “My mother and Well’s father are here—oh, and Kane—but besides that . . . there aren’t many adults. There was a school, you see, that was camping out here—high school students. We’ve mostly managed to pick up other kinds of stragglers.”

“Fact is, most older people died off,” Miller said. Monty glanced at him—Miller had a hard face, didn’t speak much, and Monty guessed he was pretty closed off.

“Sadly, yes,” Clarke said. A woman, older than all of them, appeared and called Clarke’s name. “Speaking of my mother, excuse me,” she said. “Miller, get them a place to stay?” Clarke walked over to where her mother was. They looked like they were in an intense conversation.

Miller turned to Jasper and Monty. “You may not have noticed by now, but Clarke is kind of one of the leaders here,” he said. He inclined his head in another direction of the camp, in a _follow me_ sort of way.  “The other is Bellamy—you’ll probably meet him later. He likes knowing everyone in the camp. People might try and tell you the leaders are Abby and Jaha, but no one believes them.”

“Do you accept everyone to the camp?” Monty asked. Miller looked at him. “I mean, surely resources get scarce—”

“We manage,” Miller interrupted. Jasper was making this _I think this guy is an asshole_ face, and Monty had to keep himself from laughing.

Miller led them through the camp, while people around them busied themselves with work. So many people went by that Monty felt flustered, and many of them nodded at Miller like he was some type of authority. Miller stopped a girl—Maya—and asked her for some tent material. She eyed Jasper and Monty with interest before nodding and going off. She met the three of them at a small space in one section of the camp where there was free space, and together they all propped up a tent next to someone else’s set-up tent.

“You coming to dinner later?” Maya asked them.

“I have patrol tonight,” Miller said.

“I can show them around, if need be.”

“Yeah?” Miller smiled at her. “Thanks Maya.” She nodded, glancing at Jasper, and Monty rolled his eyes.

So that’s how this was going to be.

\--

Of all the places Monty had been in an apocalypse, the Ark was by far the coolest. They had actual shelters set up, fences lining the area, and most of all, it was efficient. The Ark was set up where the high school group had been camping, so there were three actual buildings: a bathroom (thank god), a small medical building, and a small dining area that quickly became a meeting hall of sorts. The first day, Monty and Jasper had been taken to the meeting hall building—everyone called it the Dropship, though Monty didn’t know why—and were taken into a different room. There was a man there, tall and blonde, frowning over some circuits in a walkie talkie.

His name was Wick, and Monty was apparently an angel sent from heaven.

“It’s not about the electrical part—you’ve got that all fixed,” Monty said, leaning closer. He shifted the flashlight over more so he could see better. “I think it’s just putting it back in. There’s a certain order, and you have to find it.” Monty grabbed the walkie talkie from him and picked up a tweezer (tools were scarce). Within a few moments, all the wires were fitting into place, and the walkie was sealed with duct tape.

“You’re fucking amazing,” Wick said, a wide grin on his face. He almost looked mad. “And now, to see if they work.”

In the week Monty and Jasper had been at the Ark, they had settled in pretty well. Jasper became well acquainted with everyone pretty quickly because he liked to be known, and Monty allowed him to introduce Monty to a few people, too.

Wick and Monty had quickly grown to like each other. Through Wick, he learned a lot about the Ark, because Wick had been there when it first began to be built. Abby, Jaha, and Kane were all leaders in name only, but everyone defered to either Bellamy and Clarke. Within them, they had “circles” of people who were considered higher rank—Octavia, Wick, Murphy, Wells, Monroe, Harper, and Miller. “They all have different jobs,” Wick said. “I do all the fun, technological shit. Octavia, Murphy, and Miller deal with patrols. Harper and Monroe keep track of the weapons. Wells keeps track of the people. It’s all pretty organized, all things considering.” Wick paused, and then glanced at Monty. “You’re gonna be pretty big soon, too. You’ve already helped me immensely.”

The Ark was pretty communal, too. Everyone seemed to like everyone, and even the more closed off people—namely, Murphy and Miller—could be seen laughing with other people. Bellamy came and introduced himself to Jasper and Monty quickly after they came, and Monty decided he liked Bellamy. Bellamy would drop in on Wick and Monty often, check in on progress for communications, and either leave or hang around while snacking on something.

Jasper and Monty were both pulled together a lot—Jasper would help out Wick and Monty in the Dropship one day and then volunteer to patrol on other days. Monty knew that volunteering for patrol was mostly for show—Monty also knew that Jasper wasn’t useless at killing zombies, but he wasn’t fantastic either—so that Jasper would look better. Monty didn’t mind.

They slept in the same tent, which easily fit the both of them. Sometimes they would talk of their days, of the people they met or events that happened. Sometimes they would talk about the past—Jasper would start off with “Remember our third grade teacher?”—and they would dissolve into laughter, falling asleep with smiles on their faces. Other times they would be quieter, remembering their old neighbors or classmates, because that type of loss was somber. Monty still couldn’t believe that they’d been so lucky to stay together, all this time, even during a fucking zombie apocalypse. From birth, basically, to elementary to middle to high school to college, and finally a zombie takeover.

Never say friendship didn’t last.

Monty quickly became friends with Wick. Thankfully, too, because they worked together all the time, but generally Wick was a very easy person to become friends with. Soon after that it was Harper, because she dropped by to confiscate Monty’s gun, but she’d stayed around to chat and was very likeable. And after that things just fell into place: Bellamy, Octavia, Clarke, Monroe, and Wells soon came after, and then even more.

Jasper quickly became friends with everyone, but it was Maya that stuck around. She was usually at their table when they ate together, and she would join up with Jasper for duties so they could walk around together. Monty could see Jasper falling for her and thought, _Typical_. Typical that in an apocalypse, Jasper would still find someone to fall in love with, Jasper would still get romance.

It became a problem a month into their stay at the Ark.

Maya began sleeping in the same tent as them, casually at first, and then closer to Jasper every time, until they shared blankets and pillows. Then came her blankets and pillows from her tent. Monty didn’t mind at first—he liked Maya very much, she was fun company—but then Jasper and Monty’s conversation at night decreased, and Jasper and Maya’s conversations increased. It drove Monty insane, their giggling and whispered voices. He just wanted to _sleep_.

Yet before Monty knew it, he settled. Settled into waking up in a tent and moving around the Ark, eating breakfast with Wells, Clarke, and Harper, lunch with Miller and Bellamy, dinner with Jasper and Maya. Got used to Wick’s dumbass jokes (got used to giving some in return), got used to going to patrols and never having enough resources to fix things the way everyone wanted. He got used to routine, eventually stopped getting lost in the camp, and memorized the paths, and it was strange, but he liked it.

\--

Maya and Jasper’s giggling grew to a new annoyance that night. Monty was in a foul mood from discussions with Clarke and Wick, namely on communications with people outside of the Ark, and Monty had never been able to deal with disappointment well. When their giggling turned to what sounded like kissing noises, Monty huffed, threw off his sleeping bag, and pushed out of the tent.

It was late, moon shining brightly down on the camp, and Monty followed the lights set up around the camp. No one stayed up at the Ark because there was so much to do during the day that everyone was tired by this time. So when Monty stumbled upon Miller by the entrance of the fence, Monty startled.

“Shit,” he said, covering his mouth with his hands. Miller startled then, hand moving to his gun, but relaxed when he saw it was Monty.

“Fuck, that could have been bad,” Miller said, leaning back against the fence. “Next time, don’t sneak up on patrol guards carrying guns, yeah?”

“Because zombies can talk,” Monty replied dryly. He could feel his heart rate going down. “On patrol?”

Miller raised an eyebrow. “Obviously.”

Monty had learned pretty early on that Miller’s hardness was just his personality and nothing personal, so Monty just got used to it. He found that Miller was pretty sarcastic and funny, and he got annoyed very easily. Monty hadn’t really annoyed him yet, so he could just enjoy laughing at Miller’s annoyance with other people.

“What the hell are you doing up anyways?” Miller asked.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Monty replied. Then, feeling the need to elaborate, he added, “Maya’s been staying with Jasper and me. In our tent.”

“Ah.” Miller grimaced. “That can’t be fun.”

“Not for me, anyways,” Monty said. “Especially when there are sounds.”

Miller groaned. “I did not need to know that.”

“I never said they were _disgusting_ sounds. Just _sounds_.”

“Still not an image I want, Monty,” Miller said. He adjusted his grip on the gun, fingers tightening on it.

Eyes on Miller’s gun, Monty asked, “Do you take night patrol often?” Monty wondered if the gun was the same one he’d come into the camp with. “You’re never here for breakfast but you are for lunch.”

Miller raised an eyebrow. Monty suddenly wished he’d never said anything, because that sounded weird that he’d noticed at all, but Miller just said, “Yeah, I prefer it. Before all the zombie shit, I stayed up late a lot.”

“Doing what?”

“Stealing,” Miller said. Monty glanced at him, trying to read his expression, but he figured that Miller was telling the truth. “Surprised?” Miller asked.

“Not particularly,” Monty said. What did surprise Monty was the Miller smiled slightly in response. “Do you ever come across zombies? More so than during the day?”

Miller thought over it for a second before shrugging. “Usually less than the day, but it’s different. If it’s during the day, we get rid of them. At night, we’re locked down, so we don’t leave the camp. If we hear a zombie, then we usually stay where we are and let it pass.” He paused. “If it’s still there by morning, then we kill it.” He put the gun in his waistband, and Monty followed the flash of Miller’s skin before looking away quickly. He didn’t want to be found looking, and besides, it wasn’t like—there wasn’t anything between them, really.

“I thought it would be hard,” Monty said. “Being in a zombie apocalypse. But it’s easy, you know? Almost scarily so. It’s so easy to kill.”

Miller was quiet. “It’s easy to kill because you have context,” Miller eventually said. “You justify it. You tell yourself that they’re zombies and they aren’t human, so of course you can kill them.”

“That’s very true,” Monty said. “Humans do have a habit of justifying everything they do.” Monty yawned suddenly. Sleep seemed very close, if he lied down, but he didn’t want to go back to his tent yet. “Sometimes I wonder how it all started. The zombie thing.”

“I don’t think we’re the type of people to figure that out,” Miller said. “Maybe you, but definitely not me.” His tone turned to amusement as Monty yawned again. “Maybe you should go to bed.”

“I don’t want to go back to the tent,” Monty admitted. “I mean, I don’t think leaving the tent made them any less quiet.”

“Jesus, Monty. Again, I don’t need those images.”

“I’m just saying. I don’t want to walk in on anything.”

Miller looked to the side, but Monty could just see the corner of his mouth quirk into a smile. It made Monty feel some strange sort of warmth at making Miller smile, like he was proud that he got Miller to smile.

“How about this,” Miller said, looking back at Monty. “You can go to my tent.”

Monty furrowed his eyebrows. “Your tent?”

“I don’t share with anybody,” Miller explained. “No one is in there right now, obviously, because I’m on patrol. I’ll be on patrol until morning, and by that time you’ll be awake. So you can stay in my tent.”

Monty cleared his throat. “You’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered it if I wasn’t,” Miller said. He nudged Monty with his elbow. “You look fucking dead on your feet.”

“Oh Miller, how well you treat me,” Monty said, smiling.

“Don’t be an asshole, just take the goddamn offer,” Miller said. He was smiling, wide and bright in the moonlight, and Monty pretended that wasn’t the reason why he said, “Okay, I will.”

\--

Miller’s tent was closer to the center, where the original Ark people’s were. It looked small on the outside but was bigger inside, reaching farther back than Monty expected. There was a bed to the left, where another tent would (Monty assumed) block out all the sunlight during the morning when Miller was sleeping, and other items thrown around the tent almost haphazardly.

It felt weird at first. Monty stared at Miller’s bed and kept going back and forth, thinking that he couldn’t sleep on it, but then thinking he should, and then berating himself for accepting the offer. Soon weariness took over, so Monty just ignored the churning in his stomach and lied down on Miller’s bed, pulling a blanket over him. It was much more comfortable than Monty’s own, and it smelled vaguely like the earth and something else, something closer to Miller, and Monty was asleep in seconds.

\--

No one ever commented on it. Jasper never asked where Monty stayed that night, Miller never talked about it, and if they didn’t, Monty didn’t either. He did find himself hanging out with Miller more, though. They sat closer together at lunches when everyone ate together, and usually they could be pulled into long conversations with each other. Bellamy would laugh at their conversations—“Only you two could get into an argument over the best horror movie and somehow get to talking about the best type of dog breed,” he said, laughing—but it felt like no matter the conversations, Miller was up for it.

Monty offered to go with Miller on more patrols, even the late night ones, although those were rare. Wick needed Monty’s help in trying to figure out communication with other groups of refugees, and so far they only had close to nothing. Monty was of no help to Wick when he was asleep on his feet, but he had to admit that staying up and walking around the camp with just Miller, and no interruptions, was something Monty liked more than he liked to admit.

Monty liked Miller more than he wanted to admit.

\--

Wick’s comment about Monty becoming “pretty big soon” was a lot quicker than Monty expected. Wick sent Monty to find Clarke in order to talk with her about getting more batteries, and eventually Harper told him that Clarke was in the medicine building, talking with her mother. Monty had only met Abby once or twice, and she seemed caring but stern. Monty entered the door and saw a couple of teenage kids sitting on a bench together, examining their hands. Their hands were covered in a blotchy, almost orange rash, and he could hear one of the teens complaining that his hands itched.

Clarke and Abby were talking a couple of feet away, looking at plants and herbs laid out on a table. When Monty entered, their conversation stopped, and Clarke turned to Monty with a smile.

“Wick just wanted to talk about batteries,” Monty explained. Clarke nodded, glancing at her mother. Monty eyed the kid’s hands again and asked, “What happened with them?”

“I don’t know,” Abby said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I send them out to get plants for medicinal use. When they came back, their hands were covered in the rash. We’re trying to figure out what to do.”

Monty gestured at the plants. “May I take a look?” Abby and Clarke gave him equal looks of confusion, and it hit him how much they looked alike. Clarke shrugged and moved aside so he could look.

There were various sorts of plants, sage and lavender and marigold, but it was only when Monty saw a couple of branches of plants that his interest was aroused. He thought of the kid’s orange hands and turned to them. “When you picked this plant, were the flowers greenish? Did they grow in panicles?”

“Panicles?” one kid repeated, confused.

“In clusters,” Monty explained. “The fruit, were they greyish? Flat?”

“Yes,” a girl responded. Her brow was furrowed, as if recalling it. “Yeah, that’s what it looked like.”

He turned to Abby and Clarke. “This plant is _Toxicodendron vernix_ , more commonly known as poison sumac. It causes rashes when touched, and if you burn it, it can cause serious damage to your lungs.”

Abby’s mouth dropped open slightly. “How did you know that?”

“My parents were both botanists,” Monty explained. “I spent a lot of time around plants when I was younger.”

“So you’re pretty knowledgeable on plants?” Abby asked. Monty nodded. “Medicinal herbs?”

“Uh, yeah. Those are pretty easy to spot,” Monty said. “Unless you mean their medicinal properties? My mind might be a little hazy, but I can do my best.”

“What about edible plants?” Clarke interrupted, looking a bit more excited. “Can you tell what plants we can eat? That we can grow?”

“Yes,” Monty said, giving a small laugh. “Try living with two botanists and not have plants pounded into your head. It’s impossible.”

Clarke and Abby exchanged a glance, and when they turned back to him, they were both smiling.

Uh oh.

\--

“You really brought this on yourself,” Miller said, laughing at Monty’s grumbling.

“I didn’t ask to be sent out on herb duty! I just wanted to help them, oh, I don’t know, not hand out poison sumac to the rest of the Ark!” Monty huffed, turning around to see Miller trying to conceal a smile. “Shut up, you’re here with me.”

“Because I volunteered to help you with this shit,” Miller said. “I’m your protection.” No one is allowed to leave the Ark without a weapon, and if you’re not allowed to have a weapon, then you have to take someone with you who is allowed.

“Ah, yes, protection, because I don’t know how to kill zombies,” Monty replied.

“Focus on your flowers, Monty,” Miller said.

“They’re herbs,” Monty muttered under his breath, but he kept walking around, searching behind trees and looking for thickets of plants that he thought would contain some herbs. Clarke had instructed him to look for both medicinal and edible plants, but Monty knew that it was the medicinal plants he’d have the most success in. The edible plants would be more difficult because he didn’t know where they’d get the seeds to plant and grow anything.

Miller listened to Monty talk about every plant they came across with surprising patience, and he genuinely seemed interested. He definitely liked the more interesting plants—the poisonous ones or interesting shaped ones—but asked questions about them all.

Monty didn’t go any farther than the plants. He might have mentioned that his parents were botanists, but he didn’t go farther than that. Any further memories were still too painful, and those Monty wanted to keep to himself.

They’d been traveling for most of the day when they stopped, sitting in the shade. A cluster of trees surrounded them with shade, and Monty gratefully took the apple Miller offered him.

“There’s a lake about a day from here,” Miller said, pointing to Monty’s west. Monty looked west, at the trees and the sun shining. He could hear birds chirping, and suddenly nothing seemed that real. “When I first came to the Ark, I’d been staying by that lake for about a week. It’s pretty big, clear nearer to the top. There are some small fish in it. That’s mostly why I stayed.”

“Did people find you?” Monty asked, looking back at Miller. Miller was leaning against a large tree trunk, legs spread open. Monty forced himself not to look. “Or did you find them?”

“They found me,” Miller replied. He took a bite of his apple, chewing slowly before swallowing. “They’d been looking for supplies, and Octavia had been at the lake before and wanted to swim, so they all headed there, and—yeah. They found me. I decided to go with them, because they all seemed fine, and I was introduced into the group pretty quickly.”

“That’s nice,” Monty said, a bit wistfully. Miller took another bite of the apple, and Monty watched his jaw work as he chewed, the way his throat moved as he swallowed. Monty’s mouth was dry. Fuck, fuck. What had he been saying before? “I always felt a bit strange fitting in,” Monty said. “I mean—it seems like I fit in well, but I play it off, you know? People always looked at Jasper and I as—” Monty stopped, frowning. Somehow he didn’t want to relive those right now.

“For what it’s worth,” Miller said sincerely, “I think you do fit in here.”

“Thanks.” Monty smiled at him. “I think that of here, too. But you know, it’s the beginnings that—”

“Shut up,” Miller hissed suddenly. Monty closed his mouth, confused, but Miller was acting strange, body tense and ready to move. Miller’s hand was reaching over to his pack, where the gun was, and Monty felt panic run through him.

“Do you hear anything—”

“Shut _up_ , Monty.” It was after those words that Monty heard it: the telling signs of a body dragging, stumbling through the brush, and a high-pitched, drawn-out, rasping moan. Monty tensed, automatically moving closer to Miller. Miller was crouching behind the large roots, looking in the trees. “I can’t see it,” Miller whispered. “We need to get out of here.”

“Where did we come from?” Monty asked. Miller raised his hand and pointed between two thinner trees. “You’re coming with me,” Monty said suddenly. He tugged on Miller’s jacket. “Come on, Miller. We need to go—”

Miller shot at something, the resonating _bang_ clouding Monty’s ears, and then Monty was being pushed towards the trees, Miller’s hand resting firmly between Monty’s shoulder blades. Miller shoved the basket of herbs at Monty and hissed, “Get out of here!” Monty stumbled a couple of feet, and the low moaning and hissing noises of the zombie getting louder. It seemed strange to Monty that the noises kept getting louder—Monty was getting farther away, not closer—before it dawned on him that it was because there was _more than one_ zombie.

Monty turned around quickly, yelling, “Miller!” He wove his way back through the trees and saw Miller shooting at a zombie about ten feet away. Two of the bullets lodged in the zombie’s chest, and the zombie kept stumbling forward—it was ugly, obviously male, with a balding head that was missing half of the skin. The zombie’s clothes were torn and dirty, basically drenched in blood, and blood was foaming at it’s mouth. Miller shot again, the bullet grazing the zombie’s ear, and the next one finally lodged in it’s brain. The zombie feel to the ground, unmoving, and that’s when Monty saw the other zombie. It was stumbling behind Miller, its sounds masked by the other zombie’s, and Monty had just enough time to yell, “Miller! Behind you!” before Miller turned around at the zombie’s noises.

Miller turned around, raising the gun, and the zombie’s head exploded. The blood sprayed forward, _towards_ Miller, and then the zombie dropped forward.

Fuck. Monty rushed forward, racing through the trees and down a small slope. Miller was still shocked, eyes closed, and his face was dripping blood. “Miller, don’t open your eyes, don’t move,” Monty said, panicking. The zombie’s blood had just splattered Miller’s front, from the chest up. If the blood entered Miller’s body at all . . .

Monty looked around for something to wipe Miller off with, and then just took of his own shirt because there wasn’t any time. Goosebumps rose on his skin, but he shook it off and said to Miller: “Okay, I’m going to wipe your eyes first. Don’t open them.” Monty gently used his shirt to wipe off the blood on Miller’s eyelids, trying to get all of it off. Then he wiped around his eyes, under his brow and just below his bottom lashes. Monty realized his breath was coming out a little ragged, panic taking over, but he forced himself to calm down. “Okay, you can open them,” Monty whispered, and when Miller did, Monty could tell he was confused. “That’s how they infect you,” Monty explained, shifting the shirt to a cleaner area and wiping Miller’s mouth next. They were so close, Monty’s face inches from Miller’s, and Monty tried to ignore Miller’s gaze on him. “Their blood is infected,” Monty continued. “If it enters your body at all, then you turn. It’s why biting is the most common form of infection.” Monty wiped around Miller’s nose next, trying not to suffocate him in any way. He stepped back when he was done. “I got the easiest places of entry. You’re good now.”

Miller nodded, said, “Thanks.” He stared at Monty for a little, brow still furrowed. “How did you know that?”

“We ran into some people, Jasper and I. They were trying to figure the whole zombie thing out, so they kept some. They . . . experimented.” Monty swallowed. “They figured out it was the blood, not just the zombie bite. So if you got some blood in your mouth, you would turn. If blood got into a cut, you would turn.” Miller nodded again, and then his eyes glanced down at Monty’s chest for a second. Monty could feel himself flushing, and he said defensively, “I didn’t have anything to wipe the blood off with, alright? I panicked.”

“You should use water to wipe off the rest,” a girl’s voice said, and Monty whirled around just as Miller raised his gun. A girl was standing on the slope above them, carrying a backpack and a gun. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, and her skin shone slightly with sweat. “No need for the gun,” she said, raising her hands. “But I’d appreciate a thank you.”

“Thank you?” Monty asked.

“For killing that zombie for you,” she said. She stepped down into the clearing. “I’m Raven.”

Miller eyed her with suspicion, but he let out a, “That’s Monty. I’m Miller.”

She smiled at them. “I haven’t seen people in about two weeks.”

“Well,” Miller said, as he dumped some water on his head and scrubbed the blood off, “you’re about to meet a lot more.”

\--

If Monty was an angel, Raven was a godsend.

She was thrown into the Dropship with Monty and Wick, and when she opened up her backpack, they saw that she had—

“You have a fucking _radio_?” Wick exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. He glanced at Monty, excited, and continued in a rush, “I love you. Already, I love you because holy fuck, we’ve been—this is amazing, you have no idea.”

“It broke along the way, it doesn’t work,” Raven explained.

“Genius number two over there will fix it,” Wick said.

“Wait, why am I genius number two?” Monty asked, offended, but he was already being distracted by the radio on the table. It was small, but they could expand it, and it obviously needed a bit of work but it was finally something to _do_ . . .

“Because Raven is obviously genius number one for bringing the radio,” Wick explained.

Raven glanced between them. “Is it always like this with you guys?”

“Don’t act like we’re not cool,” Monty said. Then, “Sometimes other people come in here. Harper comes in to talk, Jasper sometimes helps us, and Clarke and Bellamy do pretty good routine check ups.” Wick laughed. Monty looked at him and said defensively, “What?”

“How could you forget Miller?”

“What do you mean?” Monty asked, frowning.

“Miller is in here _all_ the time. I don’t know how you miss him, all he does is stare at you,” Wick said. When he noticed Monty’s startled expression, he smirked. “God, you really are that clueless, aren’t you?”

“I’m going to purposefully destroy the radio just to spite you,” Monty snapped, feeling his face turn red. Wick’s laugh followed him outside of the Dropship.

\--

The most annoying thing about doing more and more patrols with Miller was that Miller got into the habit of stepping in front of Monty every single time a twig so much as broke. By the fourth time Miller did it that night, Monty snapped, “Miller, stop it!”

He pushed passed Miller’s body, which had just moved in front of Monty to shield him, but Miller grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “What the fuck, Monty?” he said.

“Stop jumping in front of me,” Monty said, stepping closer to Miller. “I can defend myself pretty well, you know. I did make it two years through this apocalypse without your help!”

“It’s just—I don’t do it on purpose, it’s instinct,” Miller said. He didn’t pull away, just moved into Monty’s space the same way Monty moved into his.

“Well, stop it!”

“I’m not gonna stop protecting the people I care about, Monty!” Miller exclaimed, looking a bit enraged. Monty’s words caught in his throat, and he becomes very aware of the space between them—or rather, the lack of space. There was probably inches between their faces, and Monty’s breath caught. His head pulled back slightly, and then Miller took notice, too.

“Fuck,” Miller muttered, and then he took a couple of steps back, jaw tense. “Come on, let’s finish this patrol,” Miller said, voice gruff, and Monty followed him as they set off again.

\--

If Monty could have predicted that Wick’s joking “I love you” to Raven over the radio would soon become actual feelings, he probably would have avoided the Dropship.

As it turned out, banter between Raven and Wick turned into some strange type of flirting, and then to just outright flirting. Monty got tired of it pretty quickly, and usually ducked out of the Dropship as quickly as possible. Whenever he wasn’t needed, he went away.

It didn’t leave Monty with a lot of places to go. Jasper and Maya took up his tent, Wick and Raven took up the Dropship, and Monty found himself hanging around Miller more than he usually did (which already was a lot to begin with).

“Maybe I’m some type of cupid,” Monty said, late one night in Miller’s tent. Miller wasn’t on night patrol, but he stayed up with Monty anyways, talking and laughing in Miller’s tent. Miller was only wearing his jeans, and the shirtlessness kept distracting Monty. Fuck. Monty took another drink from his flask, which was, admittedly, not water, but his own moonshine. He’d been making some in small quantities so that only he had them. “You know? Everywhere I hang out, couples appear. I’m at my tent, and Jasper and Maya become a thing. I’m in the Dropship, and Wick and Raven become a thing.”

“You should hang around Clarke and Bellamy more,” Miller said, grinning. “Then they’ll finally get their shit together.”

Monty laughed. “You better be careful, Miller,” Monty said. “Sooner or later you’re gonna find yourself in a relationship because you spend so much time with me.”

Miller snorted. “Yeah, that’s fucking likely.”

“It is. I’m Cupid, remember?” Monty took another drink. “Besides, if you don’t, I’ll volunteer for the spot.” The words transferred in Monty’s head, just as he saw the surprised look on Miller’s face, and he quickly said, “Oh, shit. Don’t listen to me, I’m just drunk.”

If anything, Miller became even more surprised. “You’re drunk? How?”

Oh, fuck. The hole Monty was in just kept getting deeper. “I made some shit.”

“You made alcohol?”

“Not really? It’s more, um. Like moonshine shit, but I make it?” Monty stammered.

“You know how to make moonshine? Monty, what the fuck?”

“My parents were botanists!” Monty exclaimed. He could feel his face getting red, embarrassed. “I learned how to make moonshine from those plants!”

Miller leaned forward, almost looking excited. “Can you make more? Like for the whole camp?”

Monty swallowed, doing some quick calculations in his head. “I’d have to get more shit, but, um, I could potentially do it?”

Miller grinned. “That’s amazing. You need to do it.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, we definitely need some more fun around here,” Miller said. “I’ll go with you to get more plants, if you want?” Monty nodded, fumbling for the flask, but his fumbling caught Miller’s eyes. “Is that it?” he asked.

Monty nodded again, handing over the flash without question. Miller took a gulp, grimaced, and then took a couple more.

Monty congratulated himself on avoiding the whole “I’d volunteer for the spot” conversation, but as he watched Miller’s cheeks get pinker as the night went on and Miller drank more, Monty thought, _fuck, I’m so screwed._

\--

The thing about moonshine was that it wasn’t actually that strong, not enough to get as blackout drunk as you might have before the apocalypse. It might get you buzzed, and the only reason people might throw up is only because they haven’t had any type of alcohol in such a long time.

Monty was hesitant at first, especially when Clarke raised an eyebrow at him as he and Miller brought over the drink, but eventually everything turned out well. They all secluded themselves to one part of the camp so that Abby, Jaha, and Kane didn’t find them, and once Clarke started drinking, she got looser and more carefree. She started playing drinking games with Wells and Bellamy, laughing about her college days with Wells.

Miller was right in that everyone needed a little fun. The moonshine got them all pleasantly warm and loose, and they all played small drinking games with each other. Someone started a bonfire in the middle of the clearing they were in. People kept coming over to Monty to thank him, and Jasper was suddenly talking to Monty more than he had in recent days. Monty didn’t mind that much—people were a bit more tactile as they talked to him because of the drink, but otherwise Monty enjoyed the attention and thanks.

In the beginning of the drinking, Monty kept himself away from Miller—thoughts of what he said the other night kept haunting him, and he didn’t want to make the same mistake—but as the night kept going, he and Miller kept moving closer and closer together. At first they met when talking to Wick and Octavia, and they stood next to each other when Octavia and Murphy were having an arm wrestling contest (Octavia won), and they met again to joke around with Jasper. It all finally came together when Monty walked over to where a bunch of people were having a push-up contest.

Monty stood by Clarke as he watched them all—it was Raven, Monroe, Wells, Octavia, Bellamy, and Miller—and laughed as they began. They were all in obvious shape, and as they reached fifteen, Monty said to Harper, “I couldn’t even reach to ten.”

“I’m far too drunk to do push-ups right now,” Harper admitted, and they laughed together. At first Monty just watched them all, but then his eyes were drawn to Miller. He watched the way the muscles in Miller’s arms moved as he did push-ups, and he didn’t look like he was tiring. If Monty tilted his head just so, he could also see Miller’s back muscles move and—fuck, Monty didn’t need to see that. He was far too gone, and the buzzing in his system made him think very, uh, interesting thoughts. Like what it would feel like to have his hands run over Miller’s back. Oh, fuck.

Eventually the push-ups stopped—Wells won, earning him another drink—and they all got up, cursing Wells and laughing. Monty walked over to Miller, and Miller grinned at him when he stopped. “Second place,” he said, like it was a huge accomplishment.

“Second place is the first loser,” Monty replied.

Miller laughed. “Ouch,” he said, jokingly. “And here I thought I did a good job.”

“Well, you did. I mean, fuck, I can’t even do ten push-ups,” Monty said. “And your arms looked very—” He stopped, biting his tongue. He really needed to learn to shut up.

Miller was smirking at him. “Drunk again?” he asked.

“Only if what I’m saying is not reciprocated, because in that case, I’m very drunk.”

Miller laughed. “And here I thought I was being obvious.”

Monty felt dizzy, suddenly, and he could hear Wick’s laughter in the background, and vaguely noticed that everyone else was sort of moving away, into other groups, and Monty and Miller were by themselves.

“Um,” Monty said. “Wait, wait, so—you like me?"

“Would you rather have this conversation another time? Like when you’re not drunk?”

“I’m not drunk, I’ve only really handed out the moonshine,” Monty said. He raised an eyebrow. “Are you drunk?”

Miller smiled, shook his head. “I’m not drunk.”

For a moment all they did was stare at each other. Monty was desperately hoping that Miller made some type of move, because Monty wasn’t good at this shit, when Miller leaned in and kissed him.

It probably lasted for all of ten seconds, but when Miller pulled away, Monty’s fingers were fisted in his jacket.

“We should have this conversation somewhere else, I think,” Monty said, surprisingly coherent, and Miller grinned at him and grabbed his hand.

They wove through the camp, which was mostly empty anyways due to close to everyone being at the bonfire, until they reached Miller’s tent. Once Monty pushed inside, Miller was on him again. Monty kissed him back enthusiastically, hands pushed into Miller’s hair and—fuck, this was better than anything Monty had imagined. He could feel Miller’s body pressed against his, warm, and solid with muscle , and Monty shivered when Miller wrapped his arms around Monty’s waist. Miller’s slight beard was scratchy against mouth, but Monty liked it. Miller pulled away once to murmur “Fuck” against Monty’s mouth, but then went back to kissing Monty, mouth demanding and hot.

Eventually they scrambled back against Miller’s makeshift bed, Monty scrambling at Miller’s jacket and pushing it off of his shoulders. Monty straddled Miller’s lap, pulling at Miller’s t-shirt next, and when it came off, Monty kissed him again, feeling a rush run through his veins that had been stronger than the moonshine. Miller’s skin was warm when Monty ran his fingertips over it, and Miller shivered under Monty’s touch. Monty swore under his breath when Miller’s mouth moved to Monty’s jaw, and he tightened his grip on Miller’s shoulders. Miller began sucking on one particular spot and Monty moaned.

“Miller—”

“Nathan,” Miller gasped, pulling away from Monty’s neck. The air touched upon the spot where Miller’s mouth had been, and goosebumps rose on Monty’s skin. “My name—fuck, you’re in my lap, Monty. You can call me Nathan.”

Monty smiled and ran his fingers through Miller’s hair. “Nathan,” he repeated. “I didn’t know that.” _Nathan_ , Monty thought, rather giddily. _Nathan_.

Miller shrugged. “I prefer Miller, really, if I’m not close to them.”

“Hmm.” Monty moved his fingers, ran them along Miller’s jawline. Miller’s eyes didn’t leave Monty’s, and Monty felt something warm coil in his gut. “Nate,” Monty whispered. Miller grimaced at the name, so Monty said it again, murmured, “Nate,” between their mouths before kissing him again.

“Don’t really like Nate,” Miller muttered, but as it turned out, he didn’t really mind it that much when Monty gasped it between their mouths, or murmured it, or moaned it.

\--

Monty woke up the next morning with his nose pressed into Miller’s neck. The air outside was cold and brittle, even in the tent, and Monty pressed closer to Miller’s naked body, trying to soak up as much heat as he could. Miller tightened his arm around Monty’s waist, and Monty tried not to grin.

He failed.

There wasn’t much light from where Miller’s bed was, but Monty traced Miller’s face through the shadows, beneath his eyes, cast over his cheeks from his eyelashes, even a small dip of shadow from his bottom lip. He was a nose breather, Monty noticed, and he didn’t move much while he slept.

Eventually Monty heard the sound of people moving about outside, so he removed himself from Miller’s hold and climbed out of the blankets. It really was colder in the morning, and Monty tried to find his clothes among the ones that had been thrown off last night. Monty found them, pulled them on, and went outside.

As Monty picked up a couple of oranges from the eating area, he could make out some kids grumbling from a slight headache. Abby was moving among them, confused. “Have you all caught some kind of flu?” she asked worriedly, but no one told her what actually happened.

Monty felt good. Like, he felt really fucking good. He could hear Raven and Wick squabbling as he walked inside the Dropship, but even that didn’t deter him. If anything, he thought it normal and almost relaxing, a small background noise to his work. He grabbed at the radio and began to examine it—not only did Monty feel good, but his mind felt clearer than any day before. He didn’t even notice how sore his body was from last night. He felt prepared, focused, like he hadn’t felt before.

He couldn’t even say how he did it, in the end. His mind had been in overdrive—he remembered Wick coming over and laughing at something on Monty’s neck, touching the spot before Monty had swatted his hand away—but mostly he remembered his movements. Reaching for screws, and then more wires, no, that couldn’t be right. He reached for a watch and dismantled it, took apart the buckle and then the face, looking for the springs and the hour wheel. The radio wasn’t working because it wasn’t picking up any signals, so Monty tried fixing that, fiddling with the metal inside, snapping his fingers for some more light, and before he knew it, the cannon pinion was locked into place, spinning, and the radio turned on.

The radio’s lights turned on.

Wick, Raven, and Monty stared at it for a moment, and then they stared at each other. “Holy shit,” Raven muttered. “Monty, what did you just do?”

“I’m . . . not really sure,” Monty responded, watching the radio’s inside work.

“Can it pick up frequencies?” Wick asked, moving closer so that he was leaning over the radio. “It might need some refining, a little bit of tuning.”

Monty reached out and fiddled with the knobs, trying to catch any frequencies. Wick and Raven were talking about radio stations and how they wouldn’t be on air anymore, but they should come up with static, and Monty kept fiddling with the knobs. Something wasn’t right.

“Is the volume up?” Raven asked after a pause.

Monty turned the volume up higher, and then they heard it: not a static, but a strange wave of noise. There was a small beeping, repeating over and over, but otherwise a strange, white noise filled the room.

“What the fuck is that?” Wick asked, coming closer. “Is the radio working?”

“It’s working,” Monty replied. He checked the insides again, shining their flashlight inside, but everything was fine. “It’s—something’s wrong with the frequencies. It’s not us.”

Monty let Raven take over his seat, and his listened to Wick’s propositions as to why it wasn’t working. Monty let Wick’s suggestions run over him, but he didn’t like anything that was proposed. Raven hit one frequency and there was a small stutter of static before the white noise and beeping was back again.

“Do you think the beeping is some type of code?” Wick asked. Monty shrugged, and Wick sat down, pulled up a paper, and began listening to the beeps.

It wasn’t their end, Monty knew for sure. He rubbed his fingers over his neck, wincing when he rubbed a particularly sore spot. When he touched it again, it barely even hurt, but it was sore. Monty realized it was what Wick had laughed at over, and just from that alone, Monty knew it was a hickey. He grinned, remembering everything from last night, and wished he could be back in the tent with Miller.

A small object hit Monty in the back, and he turned around, “What?” already on his lips. Raven and Wick were staring at him.

“Did you just hear me?” Wick asked.

“No, sorry, I kinda blocked you out,” Monty said. Wick opened his mouth to respond, but Monty’s eyes had been drawn to the radio. His own words rung in his head. “Block,” he repeated. “ _Block_.”

“What?” Wick asked, eyebrows drawn together.

Raven understood what Monty was saying. “Oh my god,” she said. “It’s not that the other frequencies aren’t working, it’s that the other frequencies are being blocked. They’re being overridden by a stronger frequency!”

Wick frowned. “That means that there’s someone out there who does have the technology to communicate with us, but they’re just blocking the signals.”

“Why would anybody want to block the signals? How else are we supposed to communicate with each other?” Raven asked. She fiddled with the tune knob again, trying to find a frequency that didn’t have the white noise. When she went over one of the frequencies, there was the same small stutter of static before it fizzled out again. “99.3,” she muttered. “Every time I go over that channel, this white noise goes away for a second.”

“Keep it there,” Wick said. “Maybe someone else is trying to get through the overriding signal, just like we are.”

“We need to go tell Clarke about this,” Monty said. “I’ll go.”

Wick nodded, already talking to Raven about hooking up the walkie talkies to the radio, but before Monty left, he said, “Hey, Monty—great job on the radio. Seriously, this is fucking amazing.”

Monty said, “Thanks,” smiling at the both of them, and as he left the Dropship, he rubbed the spot on his neck where the hickey was.

He felt on top of the world.

\--

When everyone was asleep that night, Monty grabbed his sleeping bag and his other belongings and took them over to Miller’s tent. Miller tried to look nonchalant about it, but eventually Monty caught Miller fighting back a smirk as Monty dumped his stuff in the tent.

“Do you have something to say, _Nate_?” Monty asked.

Miller glared at him before sweeping him up into a kiss.

\--

Monty really liked Miller’s collarbones. He traced Miller’s collarbones with his fingers, watching the way the corners of Miller’s mouth curled upwards. After he got tired of Miller’s collarbones, he traced the tendons of his neck, the line of his jaw. Miller made a small, tired, “Hmm” noise but let Monty continue his work.

“I can’t believe,” Monty started, waiting for Miller to look at him. When Miller did, he continued, “I can’t believe that I have better luck in the romance department during a zombie apocalypse than actual modern life.”

“Do you want me to speak to you realistically or romantically?”

Monty laughed. “Hit me with the realistic shit.”

“Well, the amount of people that you can have sex with, let alone fall in love with, is pretty low. Meaning everyone’s bar is set pretty low and they’ll have sex with anybody who’s willing, and falling in love is way easier than before,” Miller said.

“Ouch.” Monty shifted so he could press a kiss to Miller’s collarbone. “What’s the romantic part?”

“I definitely don’t feel that way about you,” Miller said. His fingers were lightly tracing Monty’s spine, and it was almost lulling Monty to sleep. “I definitely feel like . . . I couldn’t have had anything close to this before the apocalypse.”

“Wow,” Monty said. He let out a small laugh. “Surprisingly, Jasper’s had luck in both before the apocalypse and now.” Miller snorted. “Hey!” Monty slapped him lightly on the side. “Don’t laugh, that’s my best friend.”

“Don’t hold it against me if Jasper’s not my favorite person?” Miller asked.

“Considering I would hope _I’m_ your favorite person, I don’t hold it against you,” Monty replied, finding Miller’s hand and playing with his fingers. “What was your life like, before?” Miller shifted, almost uncomfortably, so Monty quickly added, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Miller sighed. “It’s fine, it’s just hard, you know?” Monty nodded, because he still couldn’t talk about his parents much. “My mother died when I was five years old, so my memories of her are sparse and vague. My father—he was a cop. Close to being head chief, or whatever. I was an angry kid, for just—just many reasons, most of which I can’t even remember now. I just felt angry, a lot of the time. I started stealing—pickpocketing, mostly, but then I started sneaking into houses, stealing nice stuff. A lot of it I sold, so I made a lot of money, put it towards a college fund. I was almost put into juvie once, but my father managed to pull me out of it. It cost him his promotion. I leveled down after that, focused on college and stuff, but still stole, back to small stuff.”

“Did your father know you continued?”

Miller shrugged. “I assume so, but he never said anything. I was in my second year of college, still undeclared, when the apocalypse happened. I immediately grabbed my shit and went home. My dad grabbed all of his stuff, we packed up, and we left the city. Cities were dangerous because populations were higher there. We got far, too—my father had his guns, we both had pretty good survival skills, and as it turns out, stealing is pretty useful during an apocalypse. Although it does get you into huge fights if the people realized you stole from them. That happened once, some person caught us, so we ran—they got a bullet in my dad. I couldn’t save him.”

“Fuck.” Monty leaned up on an elbow, looking into Miller’s face. Miller wiped hastily at his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Miller said, giving Monty a tight-lipped smile. “What about your parents?”

Monty bit his lip. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I was in college, like you, when the apocalypse started. Jasper and I tried to get home, but like you said, the city . . .” Monty shook his head. “I don’t know if they’re alive or not. Jasper and I moved out of the city, and we stayed together, but my parents—I just don’t know. Maybe one day, when this all ceases, I’ll find out. Or if other places like the Ark establish communication networks, then I can contact them. Those are all hopes and dreams though, and I know, realistically, they’re probably dead.”

“Maybe not,” Miller said. “Maybe they’re alive and thinking the same thing as you. They’re probably thinking: _realistically, our son is dead_. Who knows?”  

Monty stared at Miller in shock; he’d never considered that before. “Thank you,” he said, shifting to face Miller more fully. “I mean—really. That . . . I’d never thought of that, and it’s . . . oddly comforting, if I ignore reality.”

“I’m glad.” Miller ran his hand through Monty’s hair, fond, before yawning. “Go to sleep,” he told Monty, as if he didn’t just yawn. “We’ve got early shifts tomorrow, the both of us.”

Monty nodded and let Miller shift them around, Monty curling around Miller’s back, their hands linked together, but he stayed up rather late that night, mind filled with his mother and father and most of all, Nathan Miller.

\--

Raven was complaining to Wick about the types of metals available to them in the given area, Wick was trying to argue with her over metal elements in general, and Monty was hoping this wouldn’t give him a headache. He was just about to open his mouth and tell them to shut up when the white noise given off by the radio shut off, leaving Raven and Wick’s argument as the only sound in the room.

Monty stared in amazement at the radio, and he lunged at it the second Raven and Wick’s conversation died off. The radio was already on the frequency that always blipped for them—99.3—and the only thing there was beautiful silence.

Monty grabbed the walkie talkie they’d hooked up to the radio, glancing at Wick and Raven. They both had looks of anticipation on their faces, so Monty pressed the button down on the walkie and said, “Hello? Is anybody there?”

He released the button, listening to the small static that meant his message must have traveled. The longer the seconds went on without a response, the more Monty’s nerves increased. Wick began mumbling, “Maybe no one’s actually there, but the frequency is on—” and Raven hushed him.

There was a small click, and then a strong, cutting voice. “Who’s there?”

Raven gasped and Wick began laughing, but Monty hushed them. He pressed on the button and said, “This is Monty, I’m with my friends Raven and Wick. Who are we speaking with?”

There was a small pause. “This is Indra. I’m with Lexa and my leader, Anya. Where are you?”

Monty looked to Wick and Raven when she said “leader,” shrugging. “I can’t tell you,” Monty said. “We call ourselves the Ark.”

There was a loud, sudden static on the other end. “Someone just exhaled onto the mic,” Raven said.

“Where are you?” Monty asked.

“We are at TonDC,” Indra said. Wick began muttering behind them again, and he moved from his spot at the table to look through some shelves. “Listen, this communication will end soon, because the Mountain Men will realize their overriding signal isn’t up anymore. We need to meet, our leaders and yours.”

“Alright,” Monty said. “Our leaders aren’t here right now—”

“I understand,” Indra cut in. “Do you know where the lake is? It should be a good meeting place between our two groups.”

Monty frowned, about to say no, he didn’t know, but then he heard Miller’s voice: _There’s a lake about a day from here. When I first came to the Ark, I’d been staying by that lake for about a week._ “Yes, I know where it is,” Monty said, shifting over on the bench as Raven sat down next to him.

“Meet us there in three days time,” Indra said. “Bring your leaders, and we’ll bring ours. Our groups have major discussions to have.” Her line cut off for a moment. “I’m speaking to a Monty?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Make sure you’re there. We won’t have any discussions unless we know someone we spoke with was there,” Indra said. “We will probably be there for a while, as we have much to discuss. Tell your leaders everything in this message. And one last thing: do not trust the Mountain Men.”

Monty frowned, looking at Raven. She shrugged and mouthed _I don’t know_. “Who are the Mountain Men?”

“They’re dangerous, playing around with zombies as if they’re toys,” Indra said, voice bitter. “Stay away from their area. You’ll know once you reach it—they have signs up for a testing center. Do not enter once you’ve reached those signs. Don’t try to mess with their overriding signal, or they’ll come for you.”

“ _They’re_ overriding the signal? Why would they do that?” Monty asked.

For a second, there was only static on the other end. Then: “The day I hold a conversation with a Mountain Man is the day I decide to die,” Indra said. “The lake, three days. Be there, Mister Monty.” Her voice cut off.

“Wait, wait! I have more questions, what’s going—” Monty dropped the walkie when the white static came back on, and he couldn’t access their frequency anymore. Monty sighed in frustration, turning to Raven. “The overriding frequency had to have dropped before,” he said, “because Indra knew it was going to happen.”

Raven’s eyebrows were drawn together. A tiny crease formed between her eyebrows. “Mountain Men,” she said thoughtfully. “Indra said that they were playing with zombies? What does that even mean? How can you play with zombies?”

“I don’t want to find out,” Monty said, shivering. Wick came over to the table, slapping down a huge map and spreading his hands over it. “What’s the matter?” Monty asked.

“TonDC,” Wick said, raising his eyebrows. “I knew it sounded familiar.”

“It sounded familiar to you?” Raven asked, leaning forward on her elbows. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“That’s because it hasn’t been in use for years,” Wick said. He pointed to a spot on a map, where a body of water was. “That’s the lake they’re talking about. And here,” he continued, drawing a line to where a picture of a carousel was, “is TonDC.”

“A carousel?” Ravens said dubiously.

“An amusement park that was abandoned over forty years ago,” Wick said. “That must be where they’re staying.”

“That has to be creepy,” Monty said. He leaned in and looked at the map. There was a small radioactive symbol near the edge of the woods, right where the zigzag of the mountains began. “That has to be what Indra was talking about. The Mountain Men.” He looked up at Raven and Wick. “They’re distant from us, but they’re not _that_ far away. In fact, they could be here within a matter of days.”

Raven and Wick glanced at each other, and then back to Monty. “We need to get Bellamy and Clarke in here,” Raven said, “and now.”

\--

Miller was standing at the edge of the tent, arms crossed and scowling. “I don’t like this,” he said.

“That doesn't matter,” Monty said, sighing, as he stuffed a knife into the side pocket of his backpack. “I have to go—Indra said specifically that I had to be there.”

“Fuck what she said,” Miller said angrily. “I don’t trust them.”

Monty laughed, turning to face Miller. “And neither do I,” he said, “and for good reason, too. I think you’d be foolish to trust anybody without formerly meeting them.”

Miller made a frustrated noise. “You know what I mean, Monty.”

“Yes, I know what you mean,” Monty said, rolling his eyes. When he saw Miller stiffen, he walked over to him, placing a hand on Miller’s hip. “You’re just too suspicious by nature,” Monty said softly. “You do realize you can come with, right? Would that finally put your mind at rest?”

Miller’s jaw unclenched, and he uncrossed his arms, allowing Monty to step closer to him. “I thought you wouldn’t want me to.”

Monty frowned. “Why wouldn’t I want you to come?”

“The argument we had, a long time ago,” Miller said, playing with the end of Monty’s shirt. “You said you didn’t want me jumping in front of you—you said you could protect yourself—don’t roll your eyes, those were your words!” Miller shook his head when Monty laughed.

“There’s a whole group of us going,” Monty said, “and we’re going to the lake that you spent time at . . . Honestly, if you were so worried about me—”

“Shut up,” Miller said, a bit roughly. “The leaders—who’s going? Abby and Jaha or . . .”

“They’re all coming,” Monty said, grimacing slightly. “I figured I could wait a little on the who’s-actually-the-leader thing until later.”  

Miller shook his head, then bent down to give Monty a kiss at the corner of his mouth. “You’re going to get us all killed,” Miller said, as he began to pack up his stuff.

“Hey, I’m the hero here,” Monty said. “Radio fixed, communication with other survivors—where would you be without me?”

\--

Bellamy wanted to leave and be there a day earlier, that way they didn’t look late or like they were flaking. The rest of the group agreed, and they set off a day early. For all intents and purposes, it was a pretty big group for a regular meeting—Bellamy, Clarke, Wells, Abby, Jaha, Monroe, Octavia, Monty, Miller, and Fox, along with four other guards. Jasper was pretty upset at being left at camp, but they told him they needed him to be a guard of the camp. “Not that there’s much to guard against,” Jasper muttered. “There haven’t been zombies for weeks now.”

Monty sighed, watched Murphy hand a gun over to Jasper. “Just do your fucking job,” Murphy said, and he walked away, muttering about babysitting.

They’d all settled beneath a bank of trees, only a couple steps away from the beach closest to the lake, and were trying to discuss what Monty had been told over the radio. Monty felt like a doll who’s string had been pulled, repeating the same phrases over and over—“Yes, they said Mountain Men. No, they didn’t elaborate on what that meant, I assume they’re doing it when we meet. Yes, their leader was Anya, the other two with them were Indra and Lexa. I assume Indra’s going to be there because I talked to her. No, I don’t know anything else.”

Monty was glad when nighttime came. He settled his bag near the edge of the fire they’d put up, a bit far away from the group—he’d just wanted some peace—and Miller came over with his own sleeping bag, settling it close to Monty’s. Monty smiled at him. “It’s gonna be weird,” Monty said, keeping his voice low so only Miller could hear, “being in my sleeping bag, and not yours.”

Miller smiled, reaching his hand out so that his fingers brushed Monty’s. No one was paying attention to them, they could be as open as they wanted—it wasn’t as if they were hiding anything—but maybe there was something private between them, something that only belonged to them.

“Are you worried about tomorrow?” Miller asked. “These people asked for you specifically, and they could be dangerous . . .”

“I think we’ll be fine,” Monty said, hoping it would be true.

\--

They weren’t dangerous, at least not yet. But as three women strode forward, a group of weapon-clad people behind them, there was no denying that they were intimidating. Monty shuffled his feet, trying not to appear nervous. Monty couldn’t tell who was who, but he guessed from her stance and her position—in front of everyone—that she was Anya. When the woman to her right spoke, Monty knew she was Indra. “I’m looking for Monty,” she said, voice loud and clear.

Miller gave Monty a little push, which was really unnecessary and mostly caused him to stumble a bit, but Monty walked forward, stopping to the right of Clarke. “I’m Monty,” he said, feeling every eye on him. He tried not to flush, forcing himself to stay calm.

Indra nodded at him, and Monty felt strangely validated—and very intimidated. He forced himself to look unafraid. “And who are your leaders?”

There was a large, uncomfortable pause, where Abby sort of cleared her throat, and Clarke looked at him, just barely. Monty swallowed, wishing he hadn’t been put on the spot, but made a split decision. “Bellamy and Clarke,” he said, gesturing with his hand. Abby made a half-offended noise, but she didn’t do much else, which Monty was glad for. It might make them look weak.

Anya looked to Bellamy and Clarke, nodding. “You three, then. With us. Everyone else stays here. Lincoln,” she called. A man stepped forward, a thin blade between his fingers. “You’re in charge.”

Bellamy turned also, motioning to his sister. “Octavia,” he said. It was quiet enough that they knew it was only meant for Ark people to hear, but loud enough to reach the other group. “Make sure everything stays in order.”

“I got you, big bro,” she said, clapping a hand to his shoulder. She eyed Lincoln with interest, moving forward so she stood in front of the rest of the group. Bellamy nodded his head, following Clarke over to the three TonDC women, and Monty—after one last look at Miller—followed them.

\--

“I believe there’s no point in small talk,” Anya said. She was leaning against a tree, facing the lake. Lexa was down by her feet, leaning against one of the large roots and watching Bellamy and Clarke avidly. Indra was closest to Monty, and Monty eyed the knife strapped to her hip warily. “In any other time, I would have extended a friendship, created some sort of bond. But we’ve been holding dangerous information for a while now, and it’s dire that you know.”

Bellamy glanced at Clarke, worried, before leaning forward on his elbows. “What do you mean?”

“Does it have to do with the Mountain Men?” Monty asked.

Lexa’s eyes snapped to Monty, and she shared a significant glance with Indra. “Yes,” Indra said. She faced Monty more, but she never took Anya out of her sight. “They’re doing dangerous things.”

“Like playing with zombies,” Monty finished.

“That they’ve been doing for a while,” Lexa said. She had a low, husky voice. “What they’re planning next has us worried. It’s why we’re so adamant about our alliance here.”

“Then what’s going on?” Bellamy said. Monty could tell he was getting impatient, and Clarke did too, if the way she put a hand on his shoulder said anything.

Anya crossed her arms over her chest. “The Mountain Men like the experiment on their zombies; that’s not news to us. But recently, more . . . troubling news has reached our ears. They haven’t been just collecting zombies—they’ve been collecting humans. You must have noticed the absence of zombies, of survivors in the past couple weeks.”

Bellamy and Clarke glanced at each other. Monty remembered Jasper’s words and scratched at the back of his neck, uncomfortable.

“We believe they’re going to unleash a horde,” Lexa said, continuing where Anya left off. “They’re going to release a horde of zombies down the mountain, and not even our communities can face them. Not your walls, not your weapons, not your numbers . . .”

“Not alone,” Clarke finished. “That’s what you’re saying, right? Alone, we’d all die, but together, we’ll survive.”

“It’s the best possible solution,” Lexa said.

“It’s your _only_ solution,” Anya cut in. “Maybe one or two of you will survive—maybe more. Who knows?” She shrugged. “But is it worth everyone else’s lives? Is it worth losing so many people for two or three or ten to survive?”

“How do we even know we can trust you?” Bellamy interrupted. “Your _belief_ that they’re going to unleash a horde of zombies isn’t good enough for me.”

The three women all glanced at each other, as if deciding whether or not to trust them. “We had one of our own try to get in and find out what was going on,” Indra eventually said. “Costia—she managed to communicate what she heard, but then she got caught—”

“Stop,” Lexa cut in harshly, standing. “I won’t hear anymore.” She dipped her head to Anya and left the small clearing they were in.

“Forgive her,” Anya said, voice softer. “Costia was her girlfriend, and the wound is still very fresh.”

_She’s dead_ , Monty wanted to say, but it seemed obvious and cruel. “Then what do you want from us?” he asked instead. Everyone turned their head to look at him. “If we do form an alliance, if we’re gonna fight this horde . . . What do you want? Our groups to merge together? Fight back the Mountain Men?”

“The Mountain Men can’t be fought, not on their land,” Indra said. “We’d have to get them out to us, and we already know that’s a lost cause.”

“What we want,” Anya cut in, her voice carrying over everyone else’s, “is a group that can fight against the horde. An army of warriors, people prepared to fight against an army of zombies. People who are good, who aren’t afraid, who have experience.”

“You want us to give up our best soldiers? Who will defend our camps—” Clarke started.

“ _No one_ ,” Indra snapped. “If we don’t have a group fighting the horde, one strong, unified group, then the camps will be useless. _They will fall_.”

Bellamy straightened. “We’ll need to talk this over with our group.”

Anya smiled bitterly. She gestured towards where the rest of their groups were. “Be our guest,” she said in a mocking voice, and only watched as Bellamy, Clarke, and Monty passed.

\--

While Monty was with Bellamy and Clarke in their discussion with the leaders from TonDC, he wasn’t in the discussion on what to do. That was left to Bellamy, Clarke, Abby, and Jaha. They circled and argued around a campfire, and Monty stayed back and lied down on his sleeping bag.

Miller settled next to him. “Everything good?”

“There’s a ninety-eight percent chance that a horde of zombies will kill us all. You?”

Miller grinned, moving closer so that their shoulders touched. “Sounds like my kind of night.”

Monty reached up to run his fingers through Miller’s hair, saw Octavia watching them curiously, and dropped his hand, fidgeting. “I don’t think this is a _joking during the apocalypse_ moment. This is pretty serious shit.”

Miller rolled his eyes. “We’re in an apocalypse! We will literally never get another time to joke during an apocalypse again.”

“You never know,” Monty argued. “In two months time, aliens could invade or something, and we’ll be totally vulnerable.” Monty leaned up on his elbows, a bit more excited now. “Hey, maybe that’s how the zombie apocalypse started! Aliens did some shit, zombies came, and now they’re waiting for the perfect moment to attack!”

Miller laughed, throwing his head back and clutching his stomach. “Did you have too much moonshine?” he asked, mouth wide in a grin.

Monty punched him on the shoulder. “Shut up, I was being serious.”

“Well, now that’s even more worrying,” Miller said. Monty cuffed him on the side of the head, settling back against his sleeping bag, and Miller laid down next to him, his side pressed against Monty’s.

“I really do have moonshine with me, though,” Monty said. “It’s in my pack.”

Miller gave a short laugh. “What the fuck are you doing keeping it hidden then?”

\--

“Absolutely not,” Monty said.

Miller groaned. “I’ve hardly even said anything.”

“No, you’ve said too much. You said you were going to be a part of the group that faces the horde—”

“Yes—”

“—to which,” Monty continued, making his voice louder than Miller’s, “I say, _absolutely not_.”

Miller and Monty had a moment where they stared each other down. “They said to bring the best warriors we have,” Miller said. “I’m included in that, Monty, so I have to go.”

“Then I’m coming with you,” Monty said. “You leave in three days, right? That should give me enough time to pack.” Monty moved forward, trying to brush past Miller and move out of Miller’s tent, but Miller caught him by the arm and held him back.

“You’re not going,” Miller said firmly.

“ _Bullshit_ I’m not. You think I’m going to let you go and leave me here—”

“Yes, that’s exactly what you’re going to do!” Miller exclaimed. “You’re in no way prepared to deal with a fucking horde of zombies.”

Monty ripped his arm out of Miller’s hold, took a couple steps back. “Oh, so, you can tag along to everything I’m involved in, but when I want to tag along to what you’re involved in, I suddenly can’t?”

Miller sighed in frustration. “Meeting with leaders of another survivor group cannot be compared to fighting a zombie horde,” Miller said. Monty could see Miller’s jaw clenching.

“I’m coming with you and you can’t stop me,” Monty said, stepping forward. “I don’t care how angry that makes you, because it isn’t about you. I’m coming, that’s my decision, and you can’t stop me.”

Miller scowled and turned away, facing his back to Monty. When Monty realized he wasn’t going to say anything, Monty grabbed his bag and stormed out of Miller’s tent.

Jasper looked at him in surprise when Monty burst into his tent. “What are you doing here?”

“Is it alright if I stay here until the group leaves?” Monty asked.

“You and Miller fighting?” Jasper asked. Monty froze his movements, trying to figure out what to say, and Jasper laughed. “You think I don’t know?” he said. “I’m your best friend. I’d recognize your head over heels look anywhere.”

Monty sighed and sat down on the floor of the tent, facing Jasper. “Just like I know yours,” he said, lifting the corners of his mouth slightly.

Jasper grinned. “Yeah, you left pretty quickly. I can’t blame you, though. If Maya and I are half as bad as you and Miller—”

“ _Half_ as bad?” Monty interrupted, laughing incredulously. “You’re way worse! At least Miller and I attempt to keep it to ourselves, you and Maya can’t even do that!”

Jasper laughed. “Alright, I’ll give you that.” He nudged Monty’s foot with his own. “You wanna talk about it? Your fight with him or whatever?” Monty considered it, then shook his head. Jasper raised his eyebrows. “Wanna get drunk instead? I still have that moonshine leftover from last time.”

Monty smiled. “Me too,” he said, and Jasper grinned again and reached for his canteen.

\--

The day before they were supposed to leave, Miller pulled him aside after dinner. “Can I talk to you?” he muttered. Monty glanced at Jasper, who gave him a thumbs up and an obscene gesture, and Monty rolled his eyes and followed him.

Miller led Monty to his tent, where there was a lot of apologizing. Apologizing in the form of kisses—a lot of them—and then shedding clothes, as quickly as possible, and then in between moans.

\--

Monty woke up and for a moment couldn’t understand why Miller wasn’t lying right next to him. Monty was tired, far too tired to be this confused, but he pushed himself to his elbows and glanced around the tent. When he noticed that Miller’s pack was gone, he cursed. “That fucking _bastard_ ,” Monty hissed, scrambling for his clothes and pulling them on haphazardly. He stumbled out of the tent, looking for someone to talk to, when he came upon Harper.

“Well, you look like a mess,” she said, laughing a little and catching his arms as he flailed.

“They left, didn’t they? The group going out to meet the giant horde of zombies?”

Harper pushed some hair behind her ear. “Yeah, they left this morning. Why?”

Monty swore again. “Oh, that bastard. I can’t fucking believe him.”

Harper frowned. “Did something happen?”

“Miller _slept with me_ so that he could leave in the morning without me noticing. He literally slept with me and left. God, I could kill him. They haven’t gone far, have they? I think I will.”

Harper caught him before Monty could actually move much farther. “You mean you didn’t know they were leaving today?” she asked.

“I thought they were leaving tomorrow.”

“Oh. Oh, shit. That _is_ a dick move.” Harper pulled Monty into a hug, squeezing him tightly around the waist. Monty hugged back, but his anger didn’t dissipate in any way. “Come on, let’s go stuff ourselves with food,” she said, hooking her arm through his. “You’ll be dead before you catch up to them anyways.”

“If he doesn’t die out there, I’ll kill him when he returns,” Monty said.

Harper squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry he did that. If Monroe did that to me, god knows what I’d do.”

Monty didn’t tell her that he was glad Monroe didn’t do it to her, because it felt absolutely shitty. Instead, he let Harper lead him to the dining area, their arms linked together and her body pressed against his in comfort.

\--

It became a strange routine all over again. When Monty had first come to the Ark, it was getting to know so many people, trying to figure out names and routes and when people ate. Now it was adjusting—getting used to just Wick’s voice in the Dropship, as Raven had gone with the warrior group, getting used to sleeping in Miller’s tent alone (both Maya and Jasper were still at the camp), getting used to Clarke coming to him more, getting used to doing work quietly, taking more shifts than usual. There was a somber tone around the camp—no one knew when the group would be back, and if the group failed . . . if the horde defeated them . . .

“We’ll hold on as long as we can,” Clarke promised. She was helping Monty skin some animals that Harper had caught. She was a bit messy with it, making ragged cuts. “I’ve been thinking . . . maybe we could move somewhere else.”

Monty placed his hands on the table, holding down the fur Clarke had given him. “You wanna leave the camp?”

“Not—not _now_ ,” Clarke said, laughing a little, even though nothing was really funny. She wiped at her forehead with her wrist. “But if . .  .”

“If it all falls to shit and the horde comes for us?” Monty finished.

Clarke nudged him with her hip. “I guess. Because what if Anya’s right? What if they don’t make it? We’re all fucked, basically. And maybe she was right by saying we’d all die if we stay here. So that got me thinking: what if we don’t stay here? We could all live, then. We could make it.” Monty placed the knife down on the table and bent his head between his shoulders. “We could make it,” Clarke repeated. “But I just wouldn’t want to leave, you know? What if there were survivors from the horde? If they made it back and we were gone . . .”

Monty sighed. “There are way too many variables. We can’t predict anything, really.”

Clarke made a small huffing noise. “We didn’t predict any of this. The apocalypse, the Mountain Men, our people . . .” She dropped her knife too, taking her hands off the the last animal. “We’re going to lose people,” she said, worry and fear dripping in her voice. “It keeps me up at night. I can’t—I remember everyone who left, and I’m so worried. I don’t know who’s going to make it back or not, and that scares the shit out of me, Monty.”

Monty thought about Miller and closed his eyes. “The worst thing is when you want one person to come back more than the others. It—it’s so shitty, and you tell yourself to get it together, god damn it, because there’s more people to worry about than just that one person, but . . .” Monty couldn’t say it, couldn’t say anymore. He didn’t want to be that horrible person, but he knew he was, just a little bit.

“I know,” Clarke said. “I know what you mean. It’s . . .” She paused. She couldn’t quite look at him, but she said, “It’s Miller, isn’t it?” Monty glanced at her, surprised. He thought she was about to say another name, a name related to her.

“Yeah,” Monty said. “I’m still pissed as fuck at him, but then most of the time, I just miss him, you know?” Someone ran passed the hut they were in, and their conversation paused for a moment. “So many people have lost their loved ones,” Monty continued. “Monroe left and Harper’s here, Raven left and Wick’s here, Bellamy left and you’re . . .” Clarke made a small coughing sound. “Wells, too,” Monty added. “And Miller for me . . . fuck, both Bellamy and Octavia are out there. If something happens to one of them, the other will lose their mind.”

Clarke nodded. “Sometimes it feels like there’s this weight pressing down on my chest, like I can’t breathe. Sometimes it’s my shoulders . . . my shoulders just ache. And then, on top of that, all the worry.”

Monty nudged her shoulder with his. “Maybe you should talk to us more,” Monty said. “Get rid of some of the burden, you know?”

Clarke smiled at him. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I will.”

\--

It became a counting game, a waiting game. Harper would greet him in the morning over breakfast and say, “It’s been ten days,” “It’s been two weeks now,” “Three weeks are almost over,” and Monty would nod and pretend like he didn’t feel nauseous. The longer the days went on, the more nerves crawled along his spine, the sicker his stomach felt.

Monty found himself always looking for company. He didn’t like being in his own thoughts, he didn’t like thinking to himself. He hung out with Harper and Clarke almost constantly, and when he wasn’t, he was lost in tinkering in the Dropship. There wasn’t much to tinker with, but Monty did it anyways to pass the time.

“Are you just playing with that watch over and over again?” Wick asked.

Monty sighed, pushing the watch and tools away from him. “I think so. I’m not even sure what I’m doing.”

“Ahhh, the intelligent mind when bored. Can’t even function,” Wick said, smiling.

“You wouldn’t happen to know another language, would you? I’d like to learn another language. Or maybe learn to paint! That sounds nice, don’t you think?”

“You’re going out of your fucking mind, aren’t you?”

“I may pull my clothes off and streak through the camp. Keep an eye out. Better yet, get a camera,” Monty said. He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I just—there’s nothing here to distract me from what they’re doing. It’s been—it’s been weeks. It’ll be three months in a week, and I’m gonna stab myself with a piece of clock!”

Wick raised his eyebrows. “Wow. This is really interesting. I was bored, but now I’m entertained. Keep going, this is funny.”

Monty flipped him off. Wick began laughing, and then Harper came storming into the room. “What is it?” Monty asked, but Wick stopped laughing, and Monty knew what it was before she even spoke. “Are they dead?” he said quickly, feeling his heartbeat increase.

“No, no,” Harper said, smiling, breathless. “They’re all here, it was a success—they’re all here, Clarke’s already meeting them, they’re all—” and Monty was already out of his seat, pushing past her with Wick right behind him, grabbing Harper’s arm and leading her to the front of the camp. There was a huge group there, and everyone was milling about, hugging with each other and laughing and crying. Monty saw Monroe, hugged her before releasing her back to Harper, saw Raven and Octavia and Bellamy and Wells, and he greeted them all, embracing them too. His smile felt fake though, forced, and it wasn’t until Jaha moved to speak to his son that Monty saw him.

Some other people began greeting him, but he pushed through them, smiling politely and moving quickly, and Miller turned just as Monty reached him. “Oh my god,” Miller said. “Fuck, _Monty_.” Miller pulled him close and hugged him, arms tight around his back. Monty clutched at Miller, shaking, and he kept muttering Miller's name, over and over again.

"You're back," Monty gasped.

"I thought you'd be pissed at me," Miller said, his bag dropping to the floor.

"I am. I'm probably gonna kill you," Monty said. Miller let out a startled laugh. "But I can save that for later."

"Survived a zombie horde only to be killed by my boyfriend," Miller said. He pulled back, cupped Monty's face in his hands. "I'm alright with that."

Monty leaned up and kissed him, pressing his entire body to Miller’s, almost to reassure himself that Miller was here, in Monty’s arms, that he was alive, that Monty wasn’t dreaming again. Miller kissed him back fiercely, making them stumble back a bit, and Monty laughed into his mouth. There were loud wolf whistles and cat calls, but it only made Monty grin more into the kiss.

“You’re back,” Monty said again, pressing kisses to Miller’s face.

Miller smiled. “I’d always come back for you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> title from All Fall Down by One Republic, from the line "whenever your world comes crashing down, that's where you'll find me" which was appropriate but also very long. i obviously cut it down
> 
> find me at [my tumblr](http://montygreening.tumblr.com/)? hit me up or something
> 
> also yes, super cheesy ending ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


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